


"What are you smiling about?"

by Kate88



Series: Striketober 2020 [14]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Troubled Blood, Robin's Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate88/pseuds/Kate88
Summary: Ah man, this one was hard!  I've almost finished a completely different multi-chapter version for today's but lost my nerve about it for some reason.  As it stands, this one is well-trodden ground, but hopefully with a bit of a different take.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Striketober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948660
Comments: 8
Kudos: 46
Collections: Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020





	"What are you smiling about?"

**Author's Note:**

> Ah man, this one was hard! I've almost finished a completely different multi-chapter version for today's but lost my nerve about it for some reason. As it stands, this one is well-trodden ground, but hopefully with a bit of a different take.

_Come with me._

_Come with me._

_“Come with me”. He didn’t intend to say it, but the words escape him despite his better judgement and he knows he's never meant anything more._

_“Cormoran…?”_

_Wide blue eyes stare into his._

_“Come with me Robin”. He doubles down, not sure of anything other than that standing here, with her, is the most at peace he has felt in a week._

_Her eyes flick to the enormous windows spilling light onto the darkened lawn. He can hear the muffled sound of the DJ; a clarion call stealing her back to reality._

_Only she doesn’t go._

_“Okay.” It’s barely more than a whisper, but it stirs him to action. He grabs her hand and leads her down the stairs._

_They don’t say a word. The only sound is the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. He’s not thinking. Thinking leads to questions, questions lead to answers and answers lead to problems that he is too tired to solve._

_They bundle into the back of Shanker’s (definitely stolen) car. He hasn’t let go of her hand. She hasn’t let go of his._

_“Where to Bunsen?”_

_It’s Robin who replies “Denmark Street. I want to go home.”_

“What are you smiling about?”

He’s brought out of his reverie by the sound of her voice and a finger poking at his shoulder. She’s half amused, half exasperated. They were supposed to be figuring out the surveillance rota, but he hasn’t contributed anything that could be considered helpful, distracted as he has been with his imaginings. She slides him a mug of creosote coloured tea and a couple of chocolate Hobnobs and he captures her hand before she can pull it away, planting a kiss on the back of it. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling all the same.

“Nothing” he shrugs and then because she’s giving him a look, and because he’s trying- _really trying_ \- to do things differently, he adds “This is great”.

She huffs, indicating the Excel spreadsheet open in front of them. 

“It would better if Sam wasn’t currently supposed to be at opposite ends of London on the same day”.

She sits down beside him, one leg tucked up under her, the other one resting against his and he’s struck, as he so often is these days by how pleasing these quiet moments are and how soothing it is to be a bit bored, to be doing monotonous, mundane tasks with his favourite person.

Boring is great. Boring is perfect. Boring is so much better than any daydream.


End file.
